Hidden Burns
by Umiray
Summary: ..molding him into the perfect toy. He made the lessons stick with pain, but he was always careful not to leave any visible mark. The Cruciatus Curse was one of his favorites;second favorite the little burns littered across the back of his son's neck..."
1. Crucio

Alrighty then, why don't we start with warnings. Seeing as how this is posted on fanfition I don't really feel the need to say I don't own shit. I feel as though that's pretty obvious.

Secondly this fic contains very gay, very graphic things. And if you don't like that then, well, I'm at a loss. Why would you look up this pairing, under this category, under this rating?

Truly baffling.

But yeah. Enjoy! And please comment.

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I am finally going back to this story! I have just re-read all seven books for inspiration, and I am happy to announce that there shall be more chapters soon, after many, many requests! I'm re-working the original chapters first though, so here's the new Cht. 1!

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The war was over. The dark lord had been dead for barely over six months and the wizarding world was

already settling into their peaceful little lives. The grief over the dead was already dulling, and they were

rejoicing in their new freedom. The aurors had rounded up nearly all of the death eaters that had fled; all except

one family.

No one really knew what to do about the Malfoys. They had been death eaters, terrible ones, in the past. But in

the final battle they had not fought, one could even say that Narcissa Malfoy helped the chosen one in the end.

Yet they had committed horrible crimes. In the end they were left alone, sitting by themselves in the great hall,

outsiders to both death eaters and those that apposed them. They had gone back to their mansion and no one

tried to stop them.

Yet there were still those that mistrusted the family. There were wizards who believed they should still be

watched. Even if they hadn't fought in that last gruesome battle, the Malfoys were still dark wizards, no doubt

hoarding dark artifacts in that dark old mansion covered in ghostly white birds…

***

A terrible scream tore through the air, causing elegant white peacocks to take flight in alarm. Inside the drafty

manor, in a room lit only by a fire in the grate, a slender body hit the floor with a dull thud. Weak panting issued

from the boy on the ground, his slight form trembling feebly.

"Get up." The voice was cool and soft, barely more than a whisper. But the boy heard it and struggled to get

his thin arms under his body. Slowly he raised himself off the cold stone floor, white gold hair falling in a

shielding curtain around his pointed, pale face.

"I told you to be in here at precisely one o'clock pm. It is now one eleven pm. You are late." The man's voice

was dangerously calm as his cold grey eyes watched the youth struggle to his knees. The boy's hands were

clenched tightly in his lap, and his eyes were fixed on the floor. The man lifted his wand; a new wand, for his

old one had been destroyed, and pointed it at the boy again. "Crucio."

The boy's screams tore through the air once more. His slim body curled in on itself, shaking violently as his

screams ripped his throat. Tears streamed down his face unnoticed as pain seemed to shred his small form

apart. He was going to die. He was sure of it. Then the man lifted his wand and the pain ceased. The boy lay

on the floor, shaking harder than ever, his breathing shallow and uneven.

"Get up." the man said for the second time that day, and for the second time the boy forced himself slowly

onto his knees. "Now… Have you learned your lesson for being late Draco? Or do I have to punish you again?

Look at me!"

Draco Malfoy lifted his head, his sweat dampened, white-gold hair falling around his deathly pale face. It took

all the will he had to raise his ghostly grey eyes to the man's. When he spoke his voice cracked, weak and

feeble from screaming.

"No father, I have learned my lesson."

"Good." A dark smile curved across Lucius Malfoy's thin lips.

Draco watched as a smile crawled onto his father's mouth. He knelt on the icy stone floor at the man's feet,

trying to control his body's trembling. He watched as his father rid himself of his cloak, and then undo the

buttons of his black pants. Draco nearly winced when the man spoke again, but he suppressed the sign of

weakness, his face remaining blank and impassive. Throughout his life he had become a master of concealment.

Though for some reason it had been much harder recently to keep his mask in place. He could feel it slipping

more and more everyday...

"Undress, Draco."

The boy obeyed, his barely trembling fingers fumbling has he stripped down. Every article of clothing that he

peeled off his sweaty skin he folded neatly and placed in a pile near the wall, as he had been taught. The last

thing to be placed on the pile was his underwear, and then he glided slowly back to kneel before his father once

more, chilly air caressing his naked flesh. He tried to keep his mind empty, free of thoughts. That always

helped.

He heard his father shift, stepping nearer to him, his footsteps echoing softly through the barren stone room.

A cold hand wound itself painfully in the boy's un-greased hair, pulling his head back sharply. Draco swallowed

back a cry of pain. Inches from his face his father stood ready for him.

"Begin." Lucius' voice was steady, almost bored sounding. As Draco leaned forward, his lips just touching his

father's tip, the man released his hair, letting his hand fall casually to his side. For the next few minutes there

was silence, as Draco's mouth work slowly back and forth, back and forth. Then Lucius' hand moved and

Draco closed his eyes, waiting for what he knew would come next.

"No." There was a soft bang and Draco's cry of pain was choked down by the cock still in his mouth. The

skin behind his ear ached sharply from the cigarette like burn his father had just given him. "No wonder I have

been getting less requests for your mouth than I used to... Have you forgotten everything that you were taught,

you stupid boy?" He pressed his wand to the skin behind the boy's ear once more, and with another soft bang

burned his son a second time.

"You forget that simply moving your mouth is not good enough. You must move your tongue as well, and your

lips. Do not just move your head back and forth. Take your mouth away for a moment. Run your tongue along

the shaft and around the head. Now, try again you idiotic thing..."

And again Draco obeyed, doing everything his father had told him. His was angry at himself, and ashamed.

How could he have forgotten those simple things? They were the first things he had ever learned, before how to

use hands along with his mouth. Before he learned how to move his body in just the right way during sex so as

to ensure his partners greatest arousal. How could he have forgotten such simple little tricks? He needn't have

been burnt at all…

He needn't have disappointed his father at all. His father, who fed and protected him. Who kept him well

dressed and clean. Who bought him nearly anything his heart desired; not, as the boy thought, because he

loved Draco even though he was worthless, but to keep the boy silent, and give the appearance to the rest of

the world that he was actually spoiled. That Draco was actually loved...

Draco couldn't even remember when his father had begun to train him in the ways of sex. He had been very

young. He knew that the wizarding world believed his family's wealth came from old fortune. A lot of it did. But

they would never have been as rich as they were if not for him. His father was a terribly greedy man, desiring

wealth and power over all other things. The man had noticed when his son was very young how perfect he truly

was. Slender and fair, with skin like a porcelain doll's and hair like white gold woven into the finest silk.

He had trained his son, molding him into the perfect plaything. He had made the lessons stick with pain, but he

was always careful not to leave any visible mark. The Cruciatus Curse was one of his favorites; his second

favorite the little burns littered across the back of his son's neck. He had always made sure to keep the boy's

hair long enough to cover those marks, and forced him to gel it down whenever he left the manor, so that no

breath of wind could reveal his abuse. But he made sure to leave those scars for his boy, to remind him of how

he would never be perfect. Always be deformed and unlovable...

Men paid heaps of gold for the boy's mouth alone, and hundreds of Galleons more for his whole body. The

rest of the wizarding world knew nothing of the Malfoys' secret, and Draco had always been determined to

keep it that way. He wore a mask of arrogant coldness outside this manor. A mask kept firmly in place to hide

his shame, and to keep anyone from accidentally liking him, unworthy as he was…

Draco closed his eyes as warm salty liquid filled his mouth, trying desperately to hold back sudden unbidden

tears that burned behind his closed lids. His knees ached painfully from his long kneel on the hard rough stone.

He forced himself to swallow his father's cum as the man sighed indecently. And then, to the boy's horror, a

tear escaped from his tightly shut eyes, and he knew that his father had seen it. Knew his father had seen the

small, disgusting sign of weakness and imperfection...

Pain erupted cross his left cheek and he was thrown to the floor. He gasped as his head it the stone; he knew

what was coming… He was never, never supposed to cry! It was the worst thing he could do! And in his

father's righteous anger the man had struck him. There would be a bruise. A bruise that would raise questions

at St. Mungo's or an outside healer, and that no one in the house knew how to heal mend. And a bruise meant

that he wasn't flawless. Not being flawless would mean that no one would pay for him. Which meant that his

father wouldn't make any money off him until his face had healed. Which meant that the man's anger would

now be rage…

"CRUCIO!"

Draco screamed. His body was being torn apart. He was losing his mind. He was dying…


	2. Don't Look

Yo! so you liked the first chapter enough to start the second. Very good. Don't forget to comment!

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"Did you hear that?" The young man's head lifted towards the Manor beyond the gates, his hazel eyes narrowed. He listened as hard as he could, but the screaming had stopped. The older man beside him lifted his head as well, a confused look on his bespectacled face.

"Hear what B-" But he was cut off by his son's raised hand, and not a moment too soon. A second later a muffled yell floated out of the house.

"_crucio!_" Screams tore the air once more and the small group of people outside the gate looked at each other with wide eyes and opened mouths.

"We have to get in there quick", said the young man who had spoken first, shaking a long strand of fiery red hair out of his heavily scarred face as he raised his wand.

***

Draco lay trembling and naked on the cold stone floor, a bruise already blossoming on his pale cheek and tears streaming down his face. His breathing was uneven and his entire body ached. His father was going to torture him into insanity, just like his aunt had done to those aurors. His mind was clouding; he barely even heard his father's next cry. But he felt the pain. He was sure he was being ripped apart. Screams tore at his throat. He wished he was dead.

And then the pain stopped. He was lying cold and sweaty on the floor, barely conscious. He could hear voices around him, hear yells. He could hear crashing as spells rebounded within the room. He could hear his father screaming like a mad man.

"How dare you come into my house, you filthy blood traitors! How dare you tell me I cannot punish my own son! _I shall kill him_! I'LL KILL HIM!" Draco heard shouts of anger and fear, and felt stone blown apart inches from his nose.

His father wanted to kill him, and it was all his fault. If only he hadn't been so weak, hadn't let that one tear fall. He had made his father hate him. He deserved to die.

"Bill, take the boy and go", a man shouted. He sounded vaguely familiar. Then there were strong arms around him and he was lifted into the air. The last thing he heard was his father's deranged scream, and then they turned into tight, suffocating darkness…

***

He couldn't breathe. He was being squeezed to death by the terrible darkness. And then it released him and his lungs filled with fresh salty air. He gasped and spluttered. He coughed and it felt as though his raw throat would start bleeding. But he was in the bright winter sunlight, and the salty breeze caressed his sweaty form, clearing his head and pulling him back from the brink of unconsciousness. He shivered as the air touched his naked flesh, his body aching dulling.

"Are you alright?" The voice was a pleasant baritone, and it was overflowing with anxious concern. Draco looked up and saw a heavily scarred face and worried hazel eyes. His slightly tan face was surrounded by bright red hair, most of which was pulled back in a pony tail. But some strands had escaped the tie and fell around Draco's face as the man looked down at him, a fanged earring swinging as the man moved his head.

"I don't know if you know me, my name's Bill. Bill Weasley. And you're Draco, right?" Draco nodded weakly, incapable of speech. The wind picked up a little and slid teasingly across the boy's already chilled skin, numbing his limbs. He began to shake more, almost violently, his body finally starting to react to shock. Bill seemed to come to his senses, realizing that he was holding a sweat drenched, naked seventeen year old boy who had just been tortured, out in the open in a chilly winter breeze.

"Oh shit! I'm sorry!" The man started walking quickly towards his seaside cottage, cradling the small boy in his arms as though he were made of extremely fragile glass. They entered the house and warmth stole over them. Draco's frozen skin felt like it was burning, but he didn't care. At least it was warm. His trembling became less violent as he was carried up steep stairs. Bill kicked open a door and they entered a small room with red curtains, opened wide to let in light and a view of the sea.

Bill lowered Draco onto the small bed, his strong hands gentle as he rested the boy's head against the pillows. And then he turned and left the room. Draco looked around in surprise, his pale grey eyes widening. He didn't want to be alone. But a second later the man returned, his arms filled with blankets. He draped them across Draco's naked form, careful to keep his eyes averted. And then he left once more.

Again Draco choked back panic, shivering beneath his blankets. But Bill returned again, carrying a bowl filled with what appeared to be steaming water, a small towel over his arm. He placed the bowl on the small white side table, took out his wand, gave it a flick and a few seconds latter a chair glided through the door from somewhere else in the house. Bill pulled the chair next to the bed and sat down, lifting the bowl off the table and into his lap. He dipped the towel into the steaming water and then started dabbing Draco's sweaty, clammy face.

He did all of this without speaking once, and Draco was grateful. It seemed that Bill was the type of person who didn't waste his breath on meaningless words, just to fill the silence. And he didn't ask Draco any questions. That was good; the boy didn't think he had the strength to tell this man what had happened…

They sat there in silence for a long while. Bill carefully washed the sweat off the boys pale skin. Then he summoned a small jar filled with balm from somewhere in the house. It flew into his hand and he uncorked it, dipping his fingers into jar. He leant over and began gently spreading the balm across Draco's bruised cheek, and almost instantly the dull pain that had been pounding through his jaw subsided. Just as Bill took his hand away a ghostly white blur fell through the ceiling and Draco started, staring at the now forming weasel. It opened its mouth and a voice filled the room.

"We've caught Lucius and his wife. She joined in right after you left. We're all ok. We took the Malfoys to the Ministry and questioned Lucius under veritaserum. We asked him what he had done to Draco."

Draco's heart nearly stopped. He couldn't breathe. His eyes were wide as he stared at the Patronus weasel speaking in, he now remembered, Mr. Weasley's voice. A dull buzzing filled his ears and he couldn't seem to make out what Mr. Weasley said next. But he knew what he said anyways. He could tell because the voice coming from the weasel now sounded pained and disgusted, and Bills scarred face was a mask of horror and disbelief.

All the years that Draco tried to hide it, for nothing. People knew. His father had told Mr. Weasley what he had made his son do before the Ministry workers had arrived, and after they heard that they had surly questioned him further. And he told them how long he had been doing it, and how many different things he made his son learn. He had told them about the men Draco had been sold to. Those filthy, sweaty, vile, panting men whose hands he still felt against his skin late at night…

"-nd check his neck, under his hair. He may need some essence of dittany. Make sure he stays there, he father is threatening to kill him…" And then the weasel faded and there was a horrible silence. It pressed against Draco's eardrums. It was all his fault. His father was going to be imprisoned, again, all because of him. If he hadn't let that tear escape he would have been free to go, without punishment. He would have gotten dressed and gone to his room. And then when the Ministry workers appeared, for whatever reason they were there for to begin with, they would have found his father quite alone, already finished with their lesson. Not punishing a son that was too stupid to learn.

Tears burnt his eyes, but he blinked them back. That was why this whole thing had happened; he was too weak to hold back tears. He would never cry again. There was a shifting besides him and he remembered Bill. Bill, who had just heard about his shame.

"Draco." The boy did not look up. He couldn't; he didn't want to see disgust in the man's warm hazel eyes. But warm figures were under his chin, turning his face upwards. Their eyes met before he could look away. But there was no disgust. No revulsion over what had just been said. Instead there was pain. And anger. Draco nearly gasped at the cold fury in the man's eyes.

"Draco. I'm so sorry." And Draco knew that he was. The man didn't just say that because it was the right thing to say. He truly meant it. And the tears lingering in the boy's stormy grey eyes almost overflowed, but again he pushed them back. "Let me see your neck."

Draco balked, twitching away from the man. It was as though those words were a hot blade that slashed across his exposed skin. His hand involuntarily flew to his neck, covering his scars. The man couldn't see them. They were his imperfection, his deformity, and his shame. At once he felt more naked without his hair gelled firmly down than he had lying completely exposed on the cold stone floor.

"Draco, may I please just look at your neck?" Bills voice was calm and slow, like he was talking to an animal that would run if startled. Draco shook his head, his eyes wide, leaning away from the red haired man. But it seemed that Bill had only asked to be polite. He stood, and one of his large hands closed around the boy's wrist. His grip didn't hurt, but Draco still couldn't break free.

"N-No!" It was the first thing the boy had said since his screams from earlier. He tried to keep his hand on his neck but the man was slowly dragging it away. Draco's other hand shot up to take its place. "No!" Now that hand was caught as well, being pulled carefully away from his scars. "No, no, no!" He struggled desperately against the man's grip. He couldn't see them, he couldn't look. This man with is soft brown eyes that showed pain for him. Showed concern for _him_. He wasn't allowed to look. "No please! Stop!" Both of Draco's slender wrists were now in one of Bill's large hands and he was being pulled forward, the blankets falling off his chest as he was forced to sit up.

"No, you can't look, don't look!" This couldn't be happening. His hands were now held away from his body and Bill's free hand was moving his hair. "Don't look! They're hideous! Please!" Through his struggling and screams he could hear Bill's soft voice, filled with pain.

"I'm sorry Draco, I'm sorry. I'm just trying to help. It's ok." Draco could feel cold air on his neck and knew that Bill had finally moved his hair. He could hear his own frantic pleading, but he no longer knew what he was saying. It was as though he were listening to someone else's voice, muffed by layers of cloth. Bill was looking at his imperfections, the hideous little marks that proved he was flawed. And he felt the man's warm figures on those disgusting circular scars, spreading cool liquid across his skin. Draco couldn't remember when Bill had summoned the dittany. Probably while he was screaming. He hadn't even realized that his neck had been burning until the cool liquid soothed the pain. He must have stopped yelling, because Bill was saying new things now.

"That's right. You're ok Draco. Everything's fine. Your neck must have hurt. Those burns were really bad." Draco took a shuttering breath and finally stopped struggling. Bill was lying of course. Everything was not ok. He had seen the things that no human besides his father had ever looked at. Not even his mother was allowed to look at them.

"They're disgusting, aren't they?" Draco couldn't even remember opening his mouth to speak, but he heard those revolting words leave his mouth, his voice weak and desperate. Bill's hand twitched on the boy's neck, then it was gone. Draco closed his eyes.

"No Draco." And then warm lips were gently caressing his scars. The boy's eyes flew open. And then the lips were gone and the hand around his wrists had let go. Bill stood and grabbed the bottle of dittany out of the air where it had been floating. He re-corked it and put it in a pocket of his robes. He then lifted the no longer steaming bowl of water off the side table. He looked down at Draco, still sitting half exposed. The sun was setting across the ocean and the room blazed in the fiery light, somehow softening the deep scars that covered Bill's face.

"You should get some rest Draco, and just call if you need anything." Draco nodded and lay back, pulling the blankets up around his neck. He hadn't realized how tired he was until that second. He closed his eyes and was asleep before Bill even made it out of the room. His dreams were filled with fire and his father's screams…


	3. Sinking

Rabble rabble, review!

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The slender boy tossed fitfully in his sleep, sweat glistening on his pale brow. His mouth formed words that even in his sleep he dreaded giving voice to. But he was starting to toss more urgently, his sleeping face twisted in anguish.

"..Sorry… I'm sorry… Father, I didn't mean it. Please… Forgive me, I'm sorry. Father!"

The boy's pale grey eyes shot open, staring blankly around the bright room. He was panting and sweat dripped down his white face. For a minute he was gripped with fear. His father was going to kill him. But then memory came back to him. He was in a little cottage overlooking the sea. Bill Weasley lived here. He had saved him, even though the boy deserved to die.

Draco's stomach rumbled as he sat up. His whole body ached, and his head was pounding. He reached a slender hand through his silvery hair, feeling the large bump where his head had hit stone the day before. He winced as his fingers met the knot, then gazed around the room. It seemed to be well past morning, but he couldn't really tell. The sun wasn't out today, hidden behind slate grey clouds. The wind howled beyond the window pane, but it was comfortably warm inside the little house.

As Draco looked around the room his eyes fell on a pile of clothes on a wardrobe nearby. Next to the clothes there was a bowl of water, a towel, and a tooth brush and toothpaste. Draco realized then that he was still completely naked. He struggled to get the blankets off his legs and swung his feet slowly to the floor. His head spun dizzyingly, and he waited for it to stop, then got up and approached the dresser.

A few minutes later, after many brakes due to dizziness, his teeth were clean, his face was washed and he was wearing what appeared to be a pair of Bills pajamas. Predictably they were much too big for the small boy. The sleeves hung down to his finger tips and he had to roll up the pant legs at least five times before he could walk the few steps to the door and the hallway beyond.

He crept towards the stairs, not sure whether he was even allowed to leave his room. His bare feet padded silently as he walked to the first step, then stopped. Voices were coming from downstairs and he strained to hear what they were saying.

"-didn't want me to see them. Seemed to be ashamed. I swear though, if I ever see Malfoy again I'll kill him. The entire back of his neck is covered in scars. He had four fresh ones, too. Two of them looked a few days old, but the other two must have been done minutes before we got there. The four new ones healed right away went I put on the dittany, but there's nothing I could do about the rest of them."

Draco heard the rustling of a cloak and then another man's voice. "That poor boy. I had no idea. No one did! To think that a father could do that to his son…" More rustling of cloth, then Bill spoke again.

"He can stay here for as long as he needs to. And Fleur's in France right now taking care of her Grandmother, so he can recuperate in silence for at least a month. Maybe more. I do wish I had her skill at healing magic though. I was never good at it and he's got a huge bruise that must hurt like hell and a bump on his head the size of a shed."

"Hmm, well I'll see if I can't get your mother over here to give him a look over. But I really should be getting back now; we're having Marge over for dinner." He didn't sound too thrilled.

"Yeah, have fun with that Dad." It seemed as though Bill was smiling. There was more rustling of cloaks and Draco had the impression that they were standing and possibly shaking hands. Then there were footsteps and the sound of a door opening.

"Thanks for the tea. I'll keep you informed and I'll talk to Molly about coming over. It might not be until tomorrow evening though, seeing as how Marge is staying the night." There were a few last goodbyes and then the sound of a shutting door, then silence.

Draco edged slowly down the stairs, gripping the railing like it was a life line. Bill had said he could stay, but that probably meant he could stay in that room, alone. But he couldn't seem to stop his feet as they carried him to the last step. He looked around. Bill was sitting with his back to him in the small sitting room, the _Daily Prophet_ spread out on his crossed knees.

Draco's resolve seemed to disappear and he tried to turn back up the stairs. In his haste his foot slid off the step in front of him and he only just caught hold of the banister, barely avoiding slamming his knees into the stairs. Bill looked around in surprise, his eyes falling on the disheveled boy clinging to the railing. He was there within a breath, his soft eyes worried.

"Are you alright? Should you be walking?" Before Draco could even blink the man's warm hands were guiding him into the small kitchen and into a chair. "How's your head?" Draco mumbled something along the lines of "fine", staring down at his hands that were covered by his sleeves. Bill followed the boy's gaze and smiled.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize how huge my clothes would be on you. You're so small. Do you want me to shrink then down for you?" Draco shook his head, bringing on another onslaught of dizziness.

"No, I… I like them like this." He could feel the man's eyes on him and winced. He had said the wrong thing; he shouldn't have spoken at all. He closed his eyes, waiting for pain that didn't come. He heard Bill move away from him.

"I'll make you some food. Do you like eggs and toast? You probably shouldn't have anything heavier than that just yet." Draco looked up and nodded, slightly bewildered. Bill hadn't even raised his voice. It was much better than he deserved, sitting in this nice warm house, being fed and talked to kindly, when it was his fault his father was in prison. Draco had failed him; he had forgotten his lessons. He had deserved to be punished. He didn't deserve this.

"Actually, I'm not very hungry. I think I'll go lay down." He stood up, ignoring the fresh wave of dizziness. He didn't look at Bill as he walked back up the stairs, but he could feel the man's eyes upon him all the way to the landing above. He went into the little room and shut the door. When he turned around the sea was sparkling beautifully at him through the wide airy windows.

Draco couldn't stand to look at it. It was mocking him with its perfection. Its terrible beauty and freedom. He walked to the windows and tore the red curtains closed. He turned off the light sitting on the small side table. The room was now dimly light by a slight red glow, and he sunk back onto the bed, his stomach rumbling with hunger, and fell into another restless sleep. The nightmares came again…

***

He watched as the boy walked away, a frying pan held forgotten in his hands. What could he do? He had seen the boy before, at Hogwarts, during the Triwizard Tournament. And he had seen him elsewhere as well. But he had been different then. His hair had been perfect, smoothed down around his head, not a strand out of place. He had been cold and sneering, taunting others. Yet he had heard stories recently. He had heard about the Malfoys being locked in their manor when they were out of favor with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. And the day when Harry had gained control of Draco's wand. Harry mentioned in passing once that Draco had seemed terrified, hadn't even looked at him…

Was that the real Draco? It felt as though the boy's mask had been slipping for awhile. Had the horrors of his past finally overwhelmed him? Bill placed the pan back on its shelf and gazed out the window at the sea.


	4. Staring

Oh dear the drama. It's coming, just you wait. Review!

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Draco didn't leave the room once the next day. He hadn't eaten or drank anything in over two days. There had been a few times that day when Bill's footsteps could be heard outside the door and his voice filtered through the cracks. He would ask to come in, and every time Draco would say nothing, just continue to stare at the dark ceiling.

He could tell that night had just fallen because the room's red glow had been fading until there was complete darkness. And still the boy just stared at the ceiling, not moving an inch. He could hear noises from the floor below. They were growing louder and he heard footsteps on the stairs, accompanied by voices.

"-doesn't answer when I knock. I didn't want to bother him, but I'm starting to get worried."

"Well of course you are! The poor thing hasn't eaten all day!" The second voice belonged to a woman. The footsteps stopped in front of the door and there was a quiet knock.

"Draco? Can we come in? My mother's here and she'd like to look at your head." The boy didn't answer. There was a shuffling of cloth and Mrs. Weasley spoke again, her motherly voice worried.

"Draco dear? Won't you say something?"

"Please go away." Draco's voice was small from disuse. He moved for the first time in hours, rolling onto his side, his back to the door. He curled up, his knees pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He didn't want them to come in. He didn't want that kind woman taking care of him. That kind, sweet woman who he had insulted on so many different occasions, just so that people wouldn't look at him to closely. He didn't want her to come and take away his pain. He deserved this pain, just like he deserved starving to death in a dark little room.

"Draco", Bills voice was now firm, "We're coming in." And the door creaked open. Light spilled across the wall that the boy was facing and he shut his eyes against the offending brightness. Warmth rushed into the room and Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"It's freezing in here! The windows are wide open!" Draco could hear her bustling across the room, opening the curtains and slamming the windows shut. He had opened them early that morning, desperate to rid himself of the comforting warmth that made him want to cry. Softer footsteps followed the woman's, but these ones walked around the bed and stopped next to it. He could hear a shifting of air and cloth, as though someone was kneeling by his head. Painfully warm finger tips burnt against the icy skin of his cheek. Mrs. Weasley was still bustling around the room; doing what, Draco had no idea. Then Bill spoke, in a voice so low that only Draco heard.

"Why are you doing this? Do you think you deserve it? Because you don't…" The boy's eyes opened and he looked up. Bill was gazing down at him, pain etched into his scarred face. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Draco realized that Mrs. Weasley was talking.

"-hasn't eaten all day and frozen half to death! Bill you should have forced your way into this room! I'm going to make some food and I'll see to his head while he's eating. Really! Should have broke down the door…" Mrs. Weasley left, still mumbling under her breath in an affronted voice. The room was silent for a minute, Bill's fingers still burning on Draco's cheek. The man seemed to be waiting for something.

"I-I'm sorry…" He stuttered weakly. Bill sighed, finally taking his hand away from the boy's face. He ran his fingers through his long hair, which for once wasn't tied back in a pony tail.

"Alright Draco. Just don't starve yourself anymore. And you shouldn't stay holed up in this room either." Draco nodded, and soon Mrs. Weasley was back and practically force-feeding him, exclaiming loudly over how thin and cold he was. She examined his head and face, shrinking his bump and nearly getting rid of the bruise on his cheek. It now appeared old; it was yellow and tinged with brown and already fading.

Mrs. Weasley left as Draco's eyelids staring drooping, still giving Bill orders on how to take care of him. The healing and the food had combined to make him very sleepy. He sank back onto his pillows and closed his eyes. He heard Bill walk back up the stairs and into the room, turning out the light with a flick of his wand.

"Good night Draco. Come downstairs when you wake up tomorrow or I'll come up and carry you down." Draco nodded sleepily as the man left, already feeling guilt growing in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed back the bile that was rising in his throat.

***

He had done what he was told the next day. He went downstairs when he woke and ate breakfast, sitting silently at the small kitchen table. He went outside to get some air, as Bill instructed, but soon found that he had to flee inside once more. He still couldn't stand to look at the ocean, so he had walked towards the cliff face instead. As he had walked something caught his eye. It was a rounded white stone set on a slightly raised mound of earth. It looked like a makeshift tombstone…

He walked close enough to read it, and the words pierced through him like a sword. 'HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF.' Draco couldn't breathe. One of his hands shot up to cover his mouth, the other wrapped around his stomach as though holding himself together. Even here. Even here in this peaceful remote cottage his past found him, dragged him back. That horrible house elf, haunting him from the grave. Why was he here? That vile little creature who had seen his shame. How he had despised it.

He ran back to the house, and made it to the bathroom just in time. He retched over and over again until he was completely empty. His throat ached and his whole body shook. And then he realized that there were warm hands at his neck, holding back his silvery hair. Draco stumbled to his feet, his knees trembling so bad that they could barely take his weight. He turned on the tap and rinsed out his mouth, his hands shaking so violently that it was a miracle that any water reached his lips at all.

"What happened?" Bill's voice was determinedly calm and after a few more seconds Draco stopped rinsing out his mouth. He placed his hands on the sink and kept his eyes down.

"Dobby", he croaked, refusing to raise his eyes to the mirror. Bill was silent for a minute.

"Oh." More silence. And then footsteps. For a second Draco thought the man was leaving, then warm hands spun him around and strong arms encircled him. His eyes widened as he was pressed to the man's chest. And then, to his great shame, hot tears overflowed onto his pale cheeks. He was crying, after he had promised himself he would never cry again. He was so weak. He hid his tears, pressing his face into Bill's clean robes. Bill's hand was stroking his head, comforting him. Draco clung to the man with trembling fingers, sobbing earnestly.

He was so weak…


	5. Teasing

Here we go children! We're finally getting to the good parts. Review!

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He had been at Shell Cottage for nearly two weeks now. He had finally found out the reason why Bill had been at his family's manor, one rainy night when he had finally built up enough courage to ask. It was just supposed to be a raid, to see if there were any dark artifacts hidden in the bowls of the old house. Bill had come along to help his father; the ministry was stretched thin at the moment and curse breakers were scarce. Bill had come along just in case there were any particularly nasty spells anywhere. And then they had heard screams, and then Draco knew the rest.

The next question Draco had asked was, why wasn't the man at work? Bill had just smiled and said, "Who would look after you if I was gone?" Draco could only blink.

***

He was going crazy. He had never gone so long without any sort of sexual intercourse, and he had never wanted anyone more than he wanted Bill Weasley. He was now into his third week here and still nothing had happened. Steaming water slid down his slender body as he stood in the shower, one of his hands pressed against the slippery wall. He leaned forward and suppressed a moan, resting his forehead against the smooth tiles. His free hand worked its way slowly down his length and he shivered.

***

The red head looked up as a pale boy walked into the kitchen. He was wearing the new pants Bill had bought for him, along with a thin white button up shirt. He was toweling dry his silvery blond hair as he walked in. Bill put down the _Daily Prophet _he was reading and smiled at the boy.

"Good morning. How was your shower?" Draco smiled strangely, not meeting his eyes.

"Very good", he said in a quiet voice, sitting down across from the man. Bill felt like there was something hidden in those words but he just shook it off.

"What would you like for breakfast?" The man stood as he asked, walking over to the shelves that held the pots and pans.

"Something light, I think." Draco's voice was as quiet as ever and Bill sighed slightly. After almost three weeks the boy was still having problems eating. One third of the time he couldn't keep down his food at all.

Draco watched as the man made breakfast, his pale grey eyes mixed with hunger and guilt. He knew he didn't deserve to be here, being so well cared for. He was dirty and flawed. He shouldn't be allowed to stay in this comfortable house, eating good food, while his father starved in Azkaban. Sometimes the guilt and self loathing got so bad that he couldn't hold it in anymore. It turned the contents of his stomach to poison, and it burned him until he had completely rid himself of it.

But he couldn't force himself to leave. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man before him. The kind, strong man that made him feel, if even for a second, that he wasn't worthless. His fingers ached to touch him; to explore the skin beneath those robs. He smiled as Bill placed a plate of food before him, and mumbled a quiet thank you.

***

Evening fell silently around the little cottage. Draco lay on his bed, watching as the dull red light faded from the room; He still could not stand to keep the curtains open. He had been thinking for a while, fighting an internal war with himself. Finally he sat up and walked to the mirror above the wardrobe. He had told himself he would do it when he was flawless again. The bruise was now completely gone from his cheek, leaving his skin pale and unblemished once more. The knot on his head was finally gone as well. His fingers ran over the place where it had been, and then his hand dropped slowly.

His slender fingers caressed his neck, feeling the disgusting scars that were his only imperfection. He took his hand away as though it had been burnt. He reached for his new brush and ran it through his long shining hair a few times, then put it down and left the room.

His bare feet were silent on the cool wood floors and he made his way quietly down the stairs. Bill was sitting in his favorite spot, his back to Draco has he read a book. The boy walked into the sitting room and Bill tore his eyes from the pages, a smile softening the scars on his face.

"Hey, what's up?" The boy's heart skipped a beat as the man put aside his book, his hazel eyes focused completely on him. Draco couldn't help but think how dense this man was. Hadn't he been trying to carefully seduce him for the better part of two weeks now? The boy had finally come to the conclusion that if he wanted something done, he would have to do it himself.

He took a few steps towards the man, stopping when he stood between his casually spread legs. For someone so dense he was a fantastic tease. Bill blinked in surprise as the boy leaned over him, a slender hand resting on the couch beside his head. Their eyes met and held.

"Draco what-" The rest of his sentence was lost within a low gasp. The boy's free hand was pressing between the man's legs, caressing his manhood. Bill lurched forward slightly, his eyes wide in shock. "Draco!" The boy was sinking to his knees between the man's legs, the hand that was beside his head now sliding down his chest.

Bill barely had time to blink. Draco's skilled fingers had already undone the man's pants and were now sliding down his length. Another low gasp forced its way out of Bill's mouth. Draco was smiling, his cool fingers gripping the man's shaft. He lowered his head, his lips parted, and his tongue slid out and across the man's tip.

"Draco!" Strong hands closed around the boy's wrists, pulling his hands away. Draco looked up through his lashes at Bill's stricken face. "What are you doing?"

"I'm repaying you for your kindness. Don't you like it?"

"I-" But the man gasped again as Draco's lips touched his tip, then parted. The boy's mouth slid over his head. His grip on the boy's wrist tightened, and a low groan built in his throat. Draco's mouth slid further down his length, infuriatingly slow. The groan escaped Bill's lips as the boy moved still further down, taking in his entirety. Then he moved back, still just as slow, until only the head was in once more. And then he did it all again, and Bill was sure he would go crazy from the slowness of it.

And then Draco's mouth wasn't there anymore and Bill closed his eyes in frustration; until he felt the boy's tongue slide along the bottom of his shaft. It slid around his tip, teasing him, and a growl tore through his throat, his hands tightening even more around the boy's wrists.

Draco smiled at the sound. He moved his mouth around the throbbing cock once more, moving slightly faster, but still slow enough to torture. One of the man's hands left his wrist, lacing itself into his hair. Draco moved his freed hand to the base of the man's shaft, squeezing it and running his thumb along its bottom.

The hand in his hair tightened and the man groaned again. Draco began to move faster, taking in the entire thing before nearly removing his mouth once more. As he picked up speed more and more low groans met his ears, and the man's hand began to guide his head, back and forth. He took his mouth away a flicked his tongue across the tip, teasing again, but the man pushed his mouth back down.

He moved faster, and the man's hand tightened in his hair. He was so close. Draco could taste the small amount of precum and he wanted more. His hand massaged the man's base as his mouth moved quickly up and down the shaft. He could feel the man tensing and then, with a shuttering gasp the man released. Warm salty liquid filled Draco's mouth and he almost moaned.

He couldn't swallow it all fast enough and some managed to slide down his lips. He slid his mouth away from the man's body and licked the last of the semen from his tip, reveling in the man's sharp gasp. The hands in his hair and on his wrist relaxed and then fell away. Draco licked the last of the cum off his lips and watched as the man's head fell back against the sofa, his chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

"How was it?"

The man couldn't answer.


	6. Good Bye

Sorry for the extreme shortness of this chapter. The next one will be better. Review!

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The next few days were awkward. Bill couldn't seem to look at the pale boy that haunted his house. Every time he did he remembered moist lips and a massaging tongue, and his pants seemed to grow uncomfortably tight. Every time he turned the boy seemed to be there, doing some innocent, mediocre task. And still Bill's heart would skip a beat, and then start pounding faster than it should…

***

Draco couldn't help but smile every time Bill turned away. It proved that the man was thinking of him. That the redhead couldn't get the boy out of his mind. Draco went out of his way to be near the man, doing things he wouldn't normally have done just to be in the man's line of sight. It gave him a sort of perverse pleasure, seeing the man twitch every time he entered the room…

***

On the fifth day after that fateful evening Draco walked into the kitchen and Bill didn't even twitch. The boy frowned slightly, watching the man's scarred face as he read the _Daily Prophet_. He was completely engrossed, and Draco walked louder than he usually did as he approached the small table. The boy's heavier footsteps seemed to do the trick, and Bill looked up with a start.

"Draco!" The man flipped the paper over and placed it as far away from the boy as the table would permit. Draco frowned. Bill had never tried to hide the paper from him before…

"Anything good?" Draco's voice was casual but his eyes were clouded as he stared at the paper. Bill mumbled something along the lines of, "same old, same old". Draco wasn't fooled. There was something in the news that the man didn't want him to see.

"May I look", Draco asked, his eyes finally leaving the paper to stare at Bill. There was a silence, and Bill's face looked torn. Then, after a long while of awkwardness, he pushed the _Prophet_ towards Draco.

The boy turned over the paper, looked down, and nearly stopped breathing. His father's angry, sneering face was staring up at him from the front page. He stared at it for a full minute before forcing himself to read the article bellow. There was silence in the small kitchen as the boy read, his face growing paler with every sentence.

Lucius Malfoy had escaped from prison, with the help of a few death eaters that were still at large. The Ministry had no leads as to his whereabouts. He had obtained a wand and was extremely dangerous.

Draco felt as though the world had shrunk into a tiny pinprick, and his chest tightened. Panic rose in his throat and he couldn't breathe. His father had escaped. He had a wand. He was looking for him… The boy's thin hands began to tremble, the paper shaking in his fingers. Vaguely he heard Bill's voice, low and worried.

"I'm fine", Draco lied, "I just need to lie down". The paper fell onto the table as the boy stood up and turned around. Panic gripped him as he walked up the stairs and into his tiny room, red light blazing against his unseeing eyes. He fell onto his bed, his whole body numb.

***

It was his own fault for getting his hopes up. He had always known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that this comfort and happiness couldn't last. It should never have existed in the first place. He had forgotten how dirty he was. Had forgotten how he didn't deserve anything good. He was a tool, nothing more. A tool that had failed to perform. He deserved to die.

Draco pretended that everything was fine for the next two days. He could still feel Bill's eyes on him, suspicious of his normal attitude. But the boy was a pro and hiding his turmoil; he had been doing it all his life.

On the second night he went up to his room as usual, pretending to be tired. He lay in bed waiting, bile lingering near the bottom of his throat. He had opened his windows once more; something he hadn't done since Mrs. Weasley had visited. The freezing air blew over his slender form, rustling his thin clothes and numbing his limbs. He waited in silence, staring at the ceiling. Finally he heard Bill's footsteps on the stairs, and then the opening of a door a little ways down the hall. He waited for a long while more, giving plenty of time for the man to fall asleep.

Slowly he rose from his bed and crossed the room. He opened the door as slowly as he could, then stepped into the hallway beyond, silent as a ghost. He crept down the stairs and into the sitting room, towards the empty fire place. He started searching around the grate, but he didn't have to look long. He found a tiny tin of floo powder on a small shelf near the mantle. He grabbed a pinch and threw it into the grate. Instantly acid green flames erupted before him, and he stepped into the fire place with a bitter smile. He turned and took one last look at the comforting house. _I'm sorry Bill. _He opened his mouth and ash covered his tongue.

"Knockturn Alley."

And then he was gone.


	7. Sweat

This chapter is so deliciously dark. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Don't forget to review.

* * *

The world whirled around him in a haze of green flames. He closed his eyes tightly against the sickening blur. He spun through the tickling warmth, then lurched forward suddenly. He fell to his knees with a cry, his hands outstretched to prevent himself falling face first onto the cold stone floor. Pain shot up his wrists as his hands hit the stone, his knees ached sharply. There was a startled gasp and then footsteps.

"Master Draco! What a pleasant surprise!" A vice like hand closed around the boy's upper arm and he was pulled roughly to his feet. Draco looked up into the face of an oily-haired, stooping man. There was a strange look on Borgin's face and his grip tightened on Draco's thin arm. The boy winced, but didn't try to get away.

He had known this would happen. His father had known that Draco would go back to him. He always did… Lucius must have paid everyone he could to keep an eye out for his son. And Draco had as good as just walked into his father's outstretched arms. Borgin was panting indecently; sweat forming on his upper lip. He was smiling, his dirty crooked teeth showing between his chapped lips.

"Why don't we go into the back and have some tea?" The man didn't wait for a response, just dragged Draco across the dark showroom and through a door behind the counter. The boy's bare feet were turning numb from the cold stones and it felt as though an iron bar had clenched around his heart…

***

Bill knelt by the fireplace, talking to the disembodied head of his wife. She was saying something about having to stay in France for another two months at least. Had it already been four weeks since the pale boy had started staying here? Bill tried to act normal as he talked to Fleur's head, but his mind kept straying guiltily back to thoughts of the boy…

Finally she said goodbye, after what seemed like forever of non-stop chattering. Bill said his goodbyes, possibly a bit too quickly, and stood as the woman's head disappeared. Bill looked over at the clock on the wall and frowned. It was almost noon and Draco had yet to come downstairs. Bill walked through the house and up the stairs, determined to put a stop to any mopping the boy might be up to. Bill had expected the news of Lucius' escape to affect the boy more than it had. Maybe the news was finally sinking in. He stopped in front of the boy's door and gave it a knock.

"Draco? Are you ok?" Silence. Bill frowned and knocked again. Still more silence. "Draco?" He pushed open the door and his eyes grew wide. The room was empty. Draco was gone.

***

The boy shivered feebly, his cheek pressed against the freezing stone floor. The rope around his wrists cut into his flesh and his shoulders ached from his arms' prolonged tie behind his back. His limbs were numb with cold as he lay on the floor, his grey eyes staring dully at the empty room. A door opened nearby and footsteps met his ears. They stopped next to him and a hand wound its way painfully into his hair.

Draco cried out in pain as he was lifted by his hair, a few of them parting from his scalp. Rancid breath caressed his ear and cheek. Draco shuddered, repulsed.

"Your daddy's on his way little boy. And when he gets here he'll reward me greatly." The man giggled unpleasantly, his breath making the boy's stomach churn. Draco thought he knew how his father had planned to reward Borgin, and he suppressed another shudder as the man cackled and released his hair. Draco fell back to the floor and the man left, still giggling to himself.

Draco lay in silence once more, his grey eyes unseeing. This was his life; this was all he was good for. How could he have thought, even for a second, that he had belonged to the comfortable world of Shell Cottage, surrounded by beauty and kindness. He had known all along that he would return to his father in the end. Shell Cottage was just a passing dream; there was no place for him in that perfect world…

Draco lay in silence for a long while, barely breathing as he waited. And then he heard it, the sound of a door opening to the shop beyond. He heard Borgin's oily voice, speaking with respectful reverence. Draco heard footsteps drawing nearer; it sounded like there were more than two people…

The door opened and Draco had to remind himself to breathe. People entered the room with a rustling of cloaks. The footsteps stopped and Draco's heart seemed to stop with them.

"So", Draco had forgotten how soft his father's voice could get. "Have you been having fun? Look at me!" The boy jerked and forced himself to look up. Lucius' eyes were cold as they gazed down at his son. "Kneel." Draco struggled to his knees, his face deathly pale as he looked up at his father. His mouth was paper dry and his breathing was shallow.

There were two other people standing behind his father. One had a handsome face and a thin black mustache. There was a strange look of dark fascination on his face. The second was a giant of a man with short yellow blond hair. He was grinning obscenely, his blue eyes lingering over the boy's slender form. Draco couldn't understand how the aurors still hadn't caught this huge person.

Lucius regarded his son in silence for a long while, Borgin quivering excitedly besides him. Draco's heart pounded uncomfortably in his chest as he gazed up at his father. His hands twitched behind his back and the rope rubbed painfully against his raw skin.

"You may do what you like Borgin." Lucius' eyes never left his son's as the stooping man beside him lurched forward. The man was upon Draco faster than the boy could blink. He was shoved roughly to the ground and his thin clothes were being ripped painfully from his body. He shuddered as the man's greedy fingers groped across his exposed skin. Chapped hands pushed him onto his stomach, then grabbed his hips. Draco was partly lifted from the floor, his cheek still pressed against the hard stone.

A cry of pain escaped his white lips as Borgin thrust into his unprepared entrance. He began to pound in and out and Draco whimpered. Pain shot through his body and the smell of musty sweat filled his nose. A shaking hand grabbed the boy's hair and he was pulled backwards into the revolting man's frenzied thrusts. The boy's neck was bent back as he was held off the floor. Sweat fell onto the boy's back from the stinking, spluttering man behind him.

Draco's pained eyes found his father's. Lucius stood calmly before him, his pale gaze emotionless as he watched his son being fucked. Draco closed his eyes, and soon the man behind him gave a strangled groan. Warm liquid filled the boy and the man's hands tightened painfully in his hair and on his hip. Borgin was still for a minute, then he slid out and dropped the boy on the floor. Draco lay trembling on the stone, his ass aching sharply.

"Macnair. Thorfinn. You may have your turns…" There were footsteps and Borgin got out of the two Death Eaters' way. Thorfinn took his place before the boy, a grin spread across his face. He grabbed the boy's hair and lifted him off the floor once more. Draco could feel Macnair's calloused hands on his hips, raising him up. Draco closed his eyes once more. He could feel the handsome man pressing against his sore entrance, and then he thrust in. Draco cried out; Macnair was much larger than Borgin. The blond man took advantage of the boy's opened mouth and shoved himself inside. Draco nearly gagged. It was the largest dick he had ever encountered.

The next few minutes were a blur of groping hands, sweat, grunts, and pain. Lucius watched silently, his cold eyes uncaring. Draco had never felt so much pain during sex. His father had always made sure that his customers were gentle with him. They weren't allowed to damage the merchandise. But Lucius didn't seem to mind the fact that his fellow Death Eaters were grabbing hard enough to bruise. As he watched a humorless smile crept onto his lips.

Macnair thrust so hard that Draco started bleeding. Thorfinn moved his head so roughly that he was pulling out hairs. Draco tried desperately to hold back tears, but after five desperate minutes of trying he failed. Hot tears spilled down his face. Blood dripped down his leg and his jaw ached from opening wide enough to fit over the giant's dick.

Then with a deep grunt Thorfinn released. Draco choked on the overflow of semen. There was so much of it. It dripped down his chin and onto the stone below. The hand in his hair relaxed, and a moment latter Macnair groaned, his seed filling the boy beneath him. Cum mixed with blood and dripped down his trembling legs.

The men released him and stepped away, letting the boy fall to the floor with a thud. Tears still ran down the boy's pale cheeks and he closed his eyes. There was rustling of cloth and footsteps as the men went to stand behind his father once more. And then his father spoke.

"So you still haven't learned. I didn't punish you enough for crying last time. It won't happen again… _Crucio._"

Draco screamed. His arms pulled against the ropes still binding them behind his back and his wrists started to bleed. His legs curled up to his chest, and he shook violently. He screamed and screamed and still his father wouldn't stop. He was being torn apart. He was going insane…


	8. Kill Me

And the darkness continues.... Don't forget to review.

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Mr. Weasley looked up hopefully as his son exited the golden lift into the Magical Law Enforcement offices, but his face fell as Bill shook his head.

"It was a false alarm…" Bill's voice sounded pained as he gazed out of the magical window. They had been searching all day, ever since Bill had realized that Draco was gone. Most of the magical law enforcement squad was searching for any sign of the boy, including a few aurors as well.

Father and son stood in silence for a while, waiting for news, any news. Bill's eyes kept darting down to his wrist watch. 7:24 p.m… 7:43 p.m… 8:06 p.m… Then finally something happened. A silver Patronus fell into the room, and all eyes turned to it excitedly. It solidified into fox and a woman's voice issued from its open mouth.

"Thorfinn spotted entering Borgin and Burkes around noon today, accompanied by two wizards with their hoods up, one of which might be Lucius Malfoy. Store has been closed since." The fox faded and everyone looked at each other. Then there was a clatter as chairs were pushed back and everyone rushed to the lifts. Bill was the first one in.

_Please let it be him. Please let him be alright. Please_... The lifts clattered noisily downward and Bill wished they would go faster…

***

There was a thump and then a cry of pain. The boy fell to the floor, blood spilling from his bottom lip. He lay in a heap on the cold stone, his naked form trembling, bruises covering his skin. Lucius flicked his wand and Draco was once again thrown into the wall. There was a sickening crack and searing pain spread across the boy's side. He cried out again, his arms wrapping around his waist as he fell to the floor.

Dried blood caked his wrists and legs, standing out brightly against his ghostly skin. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he lay huddled on the cold floor. His father was going to kill him. He was going to make sure that Draco died as painfully as possible. Macnair, Thorfinn and Borgin watched silently, their eyes gleaming in the flickering candle light.

Draco's body shook with silent sobs. His silvery hair fell around his face, shielding him from his father's gaze. Quiet footsteps echoed around the room and a moment later cold hands grabbed the boy's face. Draco was forced to look into his father's eyes, wincing at the painfully tight grip on his jaw. Lucius smiled, his grey eyes insane.

"How does it feel Draco? Does it hurt?" His voice was soft, almost comforting, but his grip tightened even more. Suddenly his other hand moved and Draco was screaming again, pain tearing through his small body. Lucius lifted his wand and the pain ceased. Draco panted heavily, his eyes clouded.

"We could end it right now if you wanted…" Lucius' voice sounded kind. Consoling. He flicked his wand and Draco's right arm twisted, then cracked. The boy screamed, tears falling to the stone beneath him.

"It could all be over right now. I could kill you quickly if you wanted. All you have to do is ask…" Sobs raked the boy's form. His body was a mass of pain. Slowly, he turned his eyes to his father. The man stood above him, a deranged smile twisted across his face. Draco opened his mouth, and his voice cracked.

"K-Kill me. Please just- just kill me…" His father raised his wand, a look of triumph on his face…

***

The group of Ministry workers gathered silently around the door to Borgin and Burkes. Someone whispered a spell and the lock clicked open. They moved carefully inside, Bill in the lead. The store front was empty but there were noises coming from behind a door on the far side of the room. Then there was a scream.

Everyone froze. Bill's heart nearly stopped at the sound and there was sweat sliding down Mr. Weasley's face. As quickly as they could without making a sound the group crossed the room. The door was slightly ajar and they could hear a man's voice as they crept nearer.

"It could all be over right now. I could kill you quickly if you wanted. All you have to do is ask…" Soft sobs could be heard after the man had finished speaking. Bill stepped silently up to the door and peered through the crack. There were three men standing a few feet away, their backs turned to him. And a little ways further was Lucius Malfoy, standing over the naked bruised and bloody form of his son.

Bill's hazel eyes widened in shock. As he watched Draco lifted his head, his hair falling around his face. And then he spoke, his voice weak and cracked from screaming.

"K-Kill me. Please just- just kill me…" Lucius raised his wand.

"No!" Bill threw open the door and hit Lucius in the back with a jinx. The man bent double, clutching his stomach. Borgin and the two Death Eaters spun around, raising their wands. The Ministry workers spilled into the room, sending jinxes of their own. But Bill only had eyes for Lucius.

He dodged the other three men and ran into the room, his wand pointed at Lucius' chest. The man had recovered from Bill's first attack and turned around with a snarl. He slashed his wand through the air and Bill shielded, countering the split second he could.

A cold fury boiled through his veins as he fought. The two men's arms were blurs as they fired spell after spell at each other. And then one of Bill's spells got through; Lucius had shielded a split second too late. He was thrown against the wall and only just managed to get his feet under him in time. He stumbled slightly and the two men stared at each other, panting.

Then Lucius' eyes flicked to the side, falling on where Draco sat, his eyes wide. He slashed his wand through the air and Bill yelled, his heart nearly stopping. Draco seemed to fall in slow motion, crumpling to the floor with a small thud.

"No!" Bill's stunning spell hit Lucius' chest with a flurry of red sparks. But his wasn't the only one. Four other spells hit at the same time and Lucius tumbled to the floor. Bill looked around for only a second, seeing the other two Death Eaters and Borgin lying unconscious on the ground. Then he turned back to Draco, his chest tight with fear.

He sank to the ground beside the boy, pulling his small limp form into his arms. _Please don't be dead, please god. Don't be dead_… Draco's head hung limply over Bill's arm. The man raised trembling fingers to the boy's face, then to his neck. He waited in silence, holding his breath. Then he felt it; a faint pulse beating against his fingertips. Relief crashed over the man as he took a breath.

"Bill?" Mr. Wealey's voice was stiff and anxious.

"He's alive." Bill's voice trembled slightly and he could hear sighs fill the room. Slowly Draco stirred, his eyelids fluttering weakly. "It's ok Draco, you're going to be fine." Bill's warm fingers brushed hair out of the boy's face.

"Bill?" Draco's voice was barely audible.

"Yeah it's me. I'm here. I'm going to take you home. You'll be alright…" Draco closed his eyes, and then was still…


	9. Unwanted Visitor

Mwahahahahaa!!! I love making Harry a dick! Stupid Gryffindors. *sigh* Harry's such a tool in this chapter. It's wonderful!

But yeah, I need some help people. This might decide the future of this fic. I need to know whether or not I should have Bill ditch Fleur. I need you cats to tell me what you think.

So far the amount of reviews I've gotten on this fic have been disgraceful. And it's not like nobody's reading it either! It seems like every two seconds I get an e-mail telling me someone added it to their favorites, or their notifications. And yet... Still only three reviews. *Shakes head* Come on people! I need feed back!

But enough of my ranting. Enjoy.

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He must be dead. His father had killed him. The world was filled with a dull buzzing noise. Maybe that was the sound of other lost spirits. But… His head hurt so much. As a matter of fact, his whole body hurt. Did you have a body when you were dead? And could you feel pain? The buzzing was growing clearer, and soon the boy realized they were whispering voices.

"How is he?" This voice was a woman's, and it sounded worried.

"He's been asleep since he got here. The healers told us to let him rest. He went through a terrible ordeal. His arm was broken, along with three of his fingers, four cracked ribs, a bloody lip, and bruises everywhere. The healer was surprised he well still alive to tell you the truth…"

"Oh Arthur! How could this have happened?! The poor thing! "

"Shh, keep your voice down Molly; you don't want to wake them…" There was a silence and then a rustling noise. Draco's head throbbed and he couldn't make any sense of what they were talking about. There was a groan and more movement, then a new voice spoke.

"Mom? When did you get here?"

"Only just now dear. I'm sorry, did I wake you?"

"It's ok. Is he up yet?" The man's voice was slowly clearing his head. Draco's eyelids fluttered and he blinked in the harsh light. Crisp white curtains surrounded him on all sides. He was lying in a warm bed covered in white blankets. Where was he? This wasn't Shell Cottage…

And suddenly memories flooded back to him. A cold dark room. Sweaty men and greedy hands. Pain. Then the curtains were pulled back and he looked up into the face of an elderly healer, tears streaming down his cheeks. He hadn't even heard her enter. She smiled down at him and Draco looked away.

"You're finally up. I want to see how you're doing." There were gasps from his visitors who didn't realize he was awake. Mrs. Weasley bombarded the healer with questions as she examined the boy, moving his arm and prodding him all over. He winced as she jabbed his ribs; they were horribly tender.

And then the healer was leaving, Mrs. Weasley close behind. Draco heard Mr. Weasley say something about tea, and then he to left. Draco looked around in surprise at the sudden departures and his pale eyes met warm hazel ones.

"How are you feeling?" Bill's voice was calm, and he was smiling, but his eyes were strange.

"Sore." Draco was amazed at how weak his voice was. As he watched the man's smile faltered and then slipped away. A hand reached out and caressed the boy's pale cheek. Bill was so close, his fiery hair falling out of his ponytail and around Draco's face.

"I thought you were dead…" And then there were warm arms around him. They held him so tight that his sore body ached in protest, but Draco didn't care. It was the most wonderful pain he had ever experienced. More tears spilled from his eyes and he sobbed into Bill's chest. After a while Draco's tears lessoned, then stopped. Bill pulled away as the boy wiped his eyes, looking around the stark white room.

"Where are we?"

"St. Mungo's Hospital." That made sense. Draco looked around some more. There were three other beds in his room, none of which held any occupants. The glaring light was coming from glowing orbs that hung around the ceiling. Everything had a cold and sterile feel about it. There was silence for a few minutes, then Draco turned back to Bill, who was still watching him closely.

"What's going to happen now?" Bill brushed a strand of red hair out of his scarred face.

"Well, the second they say you can leave we're going home. I don't like this place. I would take you now but the healers won't let me. And I wasn't even going to bring you here to begin with. I was going to bring you to Shell Cottage and pay a healer to see you there, but my mother wouldn't allow it. She said it would cost too much, and that it would be easier to just bring you here."

Draco nodded, but he had stopped listening after the first sentence. _The second they say you can leave we're going home. We're going home. Home. _Bill said that so easily, he probably didn't even think. But Draco suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. Going home. For once home being a place that didn't induce fear and shame. Draco almost started crying again as Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came back in.

***

Finally, after three long days, they were going back to shell cottage. Bill had barely left Draco's side once since he had got to St. Mungo's, and the second the healer deemed him 'well' Bill said they were going home. Home. The word was still a source of wonder…

***

Bill watched as the pale boy crept about the house. He had been out of the hospital for four days now. It was as though the weeks before he left Shell Cottage had never happened. Draco couldn't eat, and at night Bill could hear him crying out in his sleep…

There was a knock on the door and Bill looked up from the paper, a slight frown deepening the scars around his mouth. They were eating breakfast at the small kitchen table and rain pattered softly on the window above the sink.

"Who could that be?" Bill put down the paper and stood, crossing the kitchen in a few short steps. Draco watched as he walked out of sight into the sitting room. He heard the door open and Bill spoke, but the sound of the rain outside drowned out his words. The boy stood and walked to the edge of the kitchen, peering around the door frame into the sitting room. His heart stopped and his eyes grew wide.

Harry Potter was entering the house passed Bill, dripping water onto the carpet and looking around. His startling green eyes fell on Draco and he blinked in shock. Then his shock faded and was replaced by a strange look that Draco couldn't place.

"So it's true. You are here. I thought I had heard wrong…" Bill was looking back and forth between Draco and Harry, a confused look on his face.

"Well if you're really staying here, than everything else I overheard must have been true to…" And suddenly Draco realized what the strange look on the other boy's face was. It was disgust. The little color in the boy's face drained away. Harry knew. He said he overheard something. He had overheard things about Draco. This couldn't be happening. All the years of hiding, and now the last person in the world that Draco wanted to know his secret knew. The look in Harry's eyes was driving him crazy.

"Don't… Don't look at me like that." Tears were forming in the boy's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He would not let Harry see him cry. The disgusted look spread across the rest of Harry's face.

"Stop looking at me like that!" Harry just continued to stare, his green eyes ripping through Draco like barbed wire. His stomach hurt; he felt like he was going to be sick.

"You're father?"

"_Shut up_!" A warm hand was on Draco's shoulder. Draco was trembling; he could feel the hand tightening. Harry opened his mouth to speak once more but a dangerously low voice cut across his.

"Get out." Harry blinked in surprise and looked at Bill. Draco looked up at the man beside him as well. Bill's face was cold, his normally warm eyes hard.

"But Bill, his own-"

"_Get out_." The man's face was furious. His hand tightened on Draco's shoulder. Harry stood in shock for another moment, and then turned away. The door slammed shut behind him. The tears that Draco had been holding back finally broke free. The boy's hands trembled and he looked at the floor.

Bill had just kicked Harry out. For _him_. The man shifted, his hand loosening and then falling off Draco's shoulder.

"I'm sorry…" Bill's voice shook with anger and Draco shuttered. He had never heard the man sound so murderous. "I'll be talking to my parents about where they hold private conversations…"

And then he was hugging the boy again, and once again the boy was sobbing. His life couldn't possibly get any worse. And yet… There were strong arms around him, and a kind person was comforting him. There was someone who would do anything to protect him. There was someone who cared whether he lived or died.

Maybe his life wasn't so bad…


	10. Sweet Escape

Ok, so those of you who are Halestorm fans may see the influence they had on this chapter. The Familiar Taste of Poison. Great song.

We're up to four reviews. Not a bad start.

Enjoy. I know I did... .

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It was so comfortable, standing within the man's strong arms. But Bill was no good for him. Pretty soon Draco would forget himself. Pretty soon he would get used to being comfortable. No, Bill was no good for him. He could try to leave, but the thought made his heart ache. He could fight it till the end. But did he really want to win…?

Draco went up to bed still fighting and internal war with himself. Could he just wish Bill well and leave? Or would the desire growing inside him burn him alive?

***

Draco walked by Bill in the hall, his eyes fixed on the floor. He couldn't look at the man. If he did he would lose his mind. But a large hand was on his shoulder. Before he could stop himself Draco was looking up into those deep brown eyes. His heart was being torn apart. Bill spoke and his voice was pained.

"You're killing me Draco. You're killing me. When you smile, it doesn't reach your eyes. When you move it's like you're trying to move through the world without touching it. I've never heard you laugh. You blame yourself for other people's ugliness…"

He was pulling Draco against his chest. The boy couldn't help it; he breathed in deeply. He wanted to fill himself with the man's cent. He wanted to feel him underneath his skin.

"Please stop hating yourself. You deserve to be alive. You deserve to live for no one but you…"

No, he couldn't do that. He couldn't live for himself. But… He could live for Bill. For no one but Bill. The man was his escape. His horribly sweet escape. But the sweet escape was always laced with a familiar taste of poison… And Draco was drowning. He was sinking into the man, falling into darkness. But he didn't want to be saved. He didn't want to be shown the light. He wanted the man on his mind; in his dreams and behind his eyes. He didn't want to wake up. He wouldn't wake up. Not this time.

Draco looked up. Bill was watching him, his arms still encircling the small boy. And Draco lifted himself onto the tips of his toes. They were so close; he could feel Bill's breath on his cheeks. Their lips met.

He knew he had no right; people like him had no right to do something as wonderful and intimate as kiss. But he couldn't help himself. It was utter bliss; the man didn't even pull away. Draco's mind was blissfully blank. All that mattered was Bill. Bill's smell, Bill's arms, Bill's lips. It was the boy's first kiss. It was the one thing that all those men had never done. He felt almost innocent again. Such a sweet escape…

***

Bill was laying in bed reading, his curtains opened wide to let in the light. Draco stepped into the airy room and Bill looked up with a start, then relaxed. The man hadn't mentioned their kiss, and Draco hadn't brought it up. But if Draco didn't do something soon the fire in his stomach would consume him.

"What's up?" Bill placed his book on the bedside table and smiled at Draco, somewhat awkwardly. So very dense. Draco walked to the bed, stopping beside the man. Bill wasn't wearing his usual robes; just a pair of torn jeans and a black tee-shirt. Draco leant down, his left hand braced on the pillow besides Bill's head. Bill opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get the words out Draco had pressed their lips together.

It was just as wonderful as the first time. Warmth flooded through the boy's body as he put his knee onto the bed. Bill was tense at first, but after a minute he relaxed. He started to kiss the boy back. Draco thought his heart would explode.

Bill's hand reached out and laced itself into Draco's silvery hair, pulling him in. His tongue caressed the boy's lips, parting them. Draco never wanted the taste of Bill to leave his mouth. Their tongues slid over each other, almost desperately. Draco thought his lips would bruise from the intensity of Bill's mouth, but he didn't care.

Bill's free hand caressed Draco's side, then his arm wrapped around the boy's slender waist and he pulled the boy down on top of him. His mouth left the boy's and he trailed kisses down his jaw, his tongue flicking across his skin. Draco moaned, his head lifting, and the man's lips were traveling down his neck. His tongue ran over the boy's pale skin, and Draco moaned again.

"Bill…" The man's hands were roaming across the boy's sides, sliding under his shirt. Bill lifted the shirt and pulled it over Draco's head, throwing it to the floor beside the bed. His tongue traveled across the boy's collar bone, and more moans met his ears. He couldn't get enough of the sound. The small boy straddling him was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and he wanted to make him scream his name.

"Bill…" The man's mouth found the boy's nipple, his tongued slipping around it slowly. Draco gasped and the man smiled.

"Say it again…"

"B-Bill!" Draco gasped the man's name, trembling under his lips. Draco had never realized that the man knew how to torture. His large hands were moving across the boy's skin, and his tongue seemed to know all the most sensitive parts off his body.

Draco lifted the man's shirt, pulling it off and throwing it to the floor with his own. His slender fingers traveled over the man's toned chest. He had waited so long for the chance to explore the man's body, and he was drinking him in. Their lips met again before Draco pulled away. He planted kisses on the man's chest, slowly working his way down his stomach. Draco's tongue slid into the man's navel and Bill groaned.

Draco's fingers were at the button of Bill's pants, and within moments it was undone and the boy was pulling them down. It only took seconds for Bill's pants and underwear to be on the floor with their shirts, and for Draco's fingers to wrap themselves around Bill's length. The man groaned, his head falling back onto his pillow.

Draco smirked, his hand moving infuriatingly slow down the man's cock. Then Bill gave a growl and the next thing Draco knew he was being pushed onto his back, and his pants were being pulled off his body. Bill's mouth was on his, his tongue sliding through Draco's mouth. And then a large hand surrounded Draco's member and his gasp quickly turned into a moan.

It was Bill's turn to tease, and he was surprisingly good at it. His hand caressed the boy slowly, causing the boy to whimper and moan beneath him. Draco's back would arch, pressing himself into Bill's hand, but with the other hand the man would push him back down. Draco was panting. He felt like he would go crazy.

"Bill!" Draco's eyes opened wide as a finger slid into him. He moaned, his eyes closing and his head falling back onto the bed. Bill slid his finger in further, smiling as Draco moaned. Draco was only just starting to get used to the one finger when Bill pressed in a second. The boy's back arched as the fingers scissored within him. Then Bill's mouth was on his once more, and a third finger pressed in. The boy trembled with pleasure as the man moved within him. His fingers curled up, pressing against the boy's prostate and Draco cried out. And then the fingers were gone and Draco gasped in frustration. Bill was sitting back, smirking slightly.

"I'm sorry, did you want me to keep going?" Draco almost screamed. Bill wasn't as dense as Draco had thought. Draco got to his knees, his legs trembling beneath him. He straddled Bill's lap, his arms wrapping around the man's neck, and pressed their lips together. Slowly they sank backwards, until Draco was lying on Bill once more.

The man groaned as their bodies pressed against each other. Draco had never been so warm during sex. It felt like his body was on fire. He reached behind him, grabbing hold off the man's shaft. Bill groaned, clutching Draco's hips with calloused hands. Draco sat up on his knees, positioning himself over the man's length. He lowered himself slowly, guiding the man against his entrance. He whimpered as he pressed himself down, biting his lip as he mounted.

Bill growled, his hands tightening on Draco's hips, but he remained still. He let Draco get used to him, then slide down a little more. It took all of the man's self control not to slam as hard as his could into the slender boy.

Draco panted as he slowly pushed the man into him. No one had ever let Draco go at his own pace before. He could tell how hard Bill was trying not to hurt him. It was a strange feeling.

And then he gasped. He had finally succeeded; Bill was all the way in. It was the most wonderful feeling Draco had ever experienced. He didn't feel dirty, just amazingly whole. He moaned heatedly, his trembling hands resting on Bill's chest. Silvery hair fell around the man's face as Draco started moving. Bill closed his eyes, air hissing through his teeth.

His hands clenched on the boy's hips, guiding his body up and down. Draco started picking up speed, his tongue moistening his lips. The man under him started thrusting. Within seconds Draco was no longer doing any work. He just closed his eyes and cried out in pleasure as the man moved him.

The boy arched his back, moving so that Bill hit his prostate with every thrust. Draco gasped and moaned, his nails digging into the man's sweaty chest. Bill groaned, his hands shaking slightly on Draco's sides. The boy's eyes were clouded; it was the most pleasure he had ever felt.

"B-Bill!"

"Just… a little longer…" Bill's voice was a growl and he sat up mid-thrust, his tongue sliding across the boy's neck. Draco moaned, his eyes shut tightly. He couldn't hold it much longer. The thing building inside him was going to burn him alive. He cried out as every thrust brought him a little closer. He couldn't hold on any longer.

"Bill!" He cried out and threw his head back, his nails digging deeply into the man's shoulders. The overwhelming pressure broke; he released onto his and the man's stomachs with a shuttering moan. One more thrust was all Bill needed. A growl tore through his throat as he filled the small boy on top of him.

The room was silent except for heavy panting. Semen dripped onto the man's legs as they sat there, trembling slightly. Then Bill lifted Draco and the boy cried out, then they both sank back onto the pillows wearily. They lay in silence for a minute, regaining their breath. Then Bill reached out and pulled the boy towards him, holding him close. Draco blinked in wide eyed surprise. No one had ever embraced him after sex. He rested his head on the man's chest.

This was no good. Bill was no good for him. He was too wonderful. Too perfect. But Draco couldn't pull away. The boy couldn't help it; he breathed in deeply. He wanted to fill himself with the man's cent. He wanted to feel him underneath his skin… The man was his escape. His sweet escape. But the sweet escape was always laced with a familiar taste of poison…

The boy closed his eyes and slept…


End file.
